


Breathe Easy

by woahvechkin



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sharing Clothes, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Texting, tagging what i know will be in it lmao, thats gonna be a big part of this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:06:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11176674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahvechkin/pseuds/woahvechkin
Summary: What do you offer your friends to make them so supportive?





	1. Part 1

Evan didn’t know how he managed to make a supportive group. He, a stumbling, murmuring, stuttering mess, somehow managed to make somewhat friends who seemed to care about him. In his head, it didn’t add up. 

There was Jared, who he had known all his life, a ‘family friend’ as he often put it. Though he claimed he was only friends with Evan for his car insurance, there were times of emotional vulnerability. Times when he opened up. Times when he cared. Evan still didn’t believe they were actually friends, anxiety wouldn’t allow the thought, even, but they were getting there. 

There was Alana, who only dare touch the word acquaintance. Even so, they had their moments. She was nice to talk to, considering most of the conversation was carried by her, so Evan could breathe easy. The only person she expects a lot out of is herself

There was Zoe. Zoe, Zoe, Zoe. The girl who once made Evan most anxious was the one person he considered his real friend. Throughout high school he had a crippling crush on Zoe, and finally they talked, but that was that. Evan was content with that. She had a calming presence, no matter what, and he wouldn’t want it any farther than that. Friends was truly fine with him. 

Then there was Connor. Just speaking the name sent shivers down his spine. He wouldn’t consider Connor a friend, no, far from it. Going over to the Murphy’s was always a Trip with a capital T. Every time he’d been over for dinner, without fail, there would be some sort of scene. But he listens. Whether it’s because he’s stoned out of his mind, or just can’t be bothered to tell him to fuck off, Connor listens to what Evan says. They may be far from friends, but they’re something. 

He tallies it up. Two sort-of friends, one true friend, and one who-knows. That was more than he’d had in years. Looking back, he simply didn’t understand. Suddenly, his hands shook, his legs felt weak, his head spun. Voices screamed in his ear. 

What do you offer your friends to make them so supportive?

What do you offer?

What do you offer?

He couldn’t answer. There was no answer. He didn’t offer anything. There was nothing to offer. He didn’t deserve them. They deserved better than Evan. He couldn’t do any-

A knock at his door. 

At some point he had begun sobbing. What had started as a fond reverie ended as a self doubting mess. And what’s worse, there was no denying it’s true. He knew it was. It wasn’t a delusion, like his therapist would suggest, he offers nothing to his friends. He’s not even funny, like Jared, or smart, like Alana, or caring like Zoe. He’s just there, like a fucking rock that for some reason, everyone decided to make a friend out of. Newsflash, you can’t be friends with a rock.

Another knock.

Evan rubs his eyes, willing the tears to stop so he can answer the door, so he can lay in bed, so he can get through the night. But the knocking persists and it’s a pressing matter, so he stands up on shaky legs, walks toward the door, and feels the familiar ache of anxiety. Suddenly, he’s anxious over the thought of having to talk to some stranger, a nameless face. It’s a welcome distraction from the self doubt. 

There’s another knock as one hand lingers on the door knob, the other gripping onto the hem of his own shirt. He opens the door. 

Connor smiles at him. He doesn’t seem to notice Evan’s red eyes and runny nose. Why would he?

“H-hi?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but it does. He wants to bang his head on the wall.

“Hey, uh, is your mom home?”

His mom, of course. Why else would Connor be there?

“N-no, sorry, do you want me to, uh, leave a message? Or something?”

Connor opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. After a moment’s hesitation he said, “Yeah, uh, tell her that Cynthia invited her for dinner tomorrow night.”

Evan furrowed his brow, confused. “I’m not trying to be rude, b-but couldn’t she j-just call my mom? She h-has her number.”

Connor looked mildly panicked for a second, a look Evan knew well, but recovered quickly and managed to get out a laugh. “Well, you know Cynthia.”

Evan laughed weakly, but he didn’t understand.

“W-was that all? I-I mean, all you wanted to say to me?” God, why was he being so rude, Connor was being so nice and he was treating him like-

“Actually, you left your hoodie at my house last week,” Connor murmured, Conjuring the navy hoodie out of seemingly nowhere. 

“Oh,” Evan pushed out. Anxiety was sinking its claws in him, and all he wanted was for this awkward exchange to be over. 

“Yeah, I found it in the living room.” There must have been something about the way Evan was looking at Connor, because suddenly he went wide-eyed and bright red and rushed out, “I didn’t wear it, I swear, I was just planning on how to return it.”

“I didn’t think you did,” He reassured him, knowing too well how thoughts of what other people think of you could affect you. Though, suddenly images of Connor in Evan’s clothes were in his mind. He pushed those thoughts out as soon as they came. 

Connor looked relieved, and pushed the hoodie into Evan’s arms. “Well, uh, see you at dinner tomorrow, I guess.”

“Y-yeah, see you then.”

The door shut, and it was over.

With Evan’s back against the door, he breathes.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinners and texts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen i didn't know what to make Evan's text name so i just made it Oakay. You know, like an oak tree? sorry im lame

The dinner was uncomfortable at best.

Evan was sat in between Zoe and his mom, with Connor and his parents sitting across from them. There was less fighting than there usually was when Evan visited, probably due to the fact Heidi was there. He assumed Cynthia wanted her family to look as best as they could. 

Connor, however, didn’t seem to care. Occasionally, during whatever conversation they were having that Evan no doubt stayed silent throughout, Larry would make some sort of underhanded compliment about his son such as, “Wow, Evan, I didn’t know you had such a high grade average! If only my son could be more like you.” In turn, Connor would quip back an equally underhanded comment, and the cycle would continue.

As a last ditch effort to turn the dinner around, Cynthia clapped her hands and said, “Who wants dessert? I made a three layer chocolate cake that I think everyone will really enjoy.”

“I think Connor would prefer to have some weed brownies. I apologize, on your mother’s behalf,” Larry snorted. Cynthia frowned and rushed off to the kitchen.

Connor stared at his father with something that looked like awe. “Honestly,” he said, “I don’t see how you do it. I can be doing literally nothing and somehow you’ll be able to turn it around on me.”

Before Larry could reply and send them off into another argument, Cynthia returned with a cake perfectly decorated and looked so decadent it could make Gordon Ramsay quiver in his shoes.

Zoe, who had been silent like Evan through most of the dinner, finally perked up. 

“It looks great, mom. You think it will finally shut these two up?”

“One can hope,” Cynthia sighed. 

It wasn’t a complete disaster. Though, Evan wouldn’t call it great by any means. But it was okay. Zoe’s presence, as always, just being there, was calming for him. She was enough to keep him grounded. 

Connor, on the other hand, made him nervous. For some reason, Evan got the same sweaty-but-not-really-sweaty-hands feeling he used to get around Zoe. He stammered, his heart pounded, he fidgeted. He looked anywhere but at Connor. Was that aggressive? Would Connor take that as a sign of him being rude? Should he look at him more?

Evan breathed in, and he breathed out. 

Now, he was safe in his room, where no one could disturb him, where he didn’t have to worry about hurting anyone, or offending anyone. Here he could be himself. That was enough. 

Suddenly, his phone lit up.

**Other Murphy:** hey hansen

**Other Murphy:** look being nice isnt my thing usually

**Other Murphy:** but like

**Other Murphy:** i wanna apologize bc my parents were dicks tonight

**Other Murphy:** and like

**Other Murphy:** i could see u were uncomfortable

**Other Murphy:** like usually ur comfy around my family n stuff

**Other Murphy:** but u were like Silent tonight

**Other Murphy:** so sorry for that 

**Other Murphy:** and sorry for sending so many texts??? i need to chill

Evan smiled. A real, genuine smile, for the first time in what has seemed like forever. 

**Oakay:** Its all good! I was a lil anxious but like when am i not u know

**Other Murphy:** lmao 

And he kept smiling. Why did he keep smiling? He couldn’t pinpoint it, but he liked it. Maybe he and Connor could be friends after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this while Very tired so i'm not sure if it makes any sense and i might make texting an aspect of this fic. It was a sudden choice so well see. ill probably decide i hate it in the morning but!! who knows

**Author's Note:**

> loosely based off that one line from 4:48 psychosis (its not edgy like the name implies). I wrote this to celebrate DEH winning the best musical tony and it was originally gonna be a one shot but i decided to make it have several parts. Also i have 0 plan so if this ends up being Really Bad ill probably just delete it lmao


End file.
